Caroline’s face had softened with the memory, and her eyes had a touch of shininess to them.
“Some of the brethren gave her and James a lot and put together a log house for them. With what little money she had left she hired a man to put on a roof and build a chimney. She and another woman chinked and plastered it themselves. To support her family, she took in boarders and did washing and ironing. If you think about it, you might remember her at some of the celebrations in town. She would make ginger beer and gingerbread, then she and her children would sell it on public days to the crowds.”
Caroline glanced at her husband and saw that he was listening intently. “She made gloves and mittens in the winter and sold those.” Now her voice went suddenly husky. “I clearly remember that night we were there. She told us that she made extra mittens so that she could give them as tithing.”
Joshua said nothing. He seemed withdrawn into his own thoughts.
“Do you know what is most remarkable about Drusilla Hendricks? She doesn’t think she is remarkable in any way.”
Finally he nodded. “I could see that.”
“Do you wish I hadn’t taken flour and bacon to them?” Caroline asked. “I know we don’t have any extra to spare.”
He looked surprised. “You think I would resent that?”
“No, and I’m glad. But you do think they are wrong for being out here, don’t you?”
For a long moment he thought about that. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s wrong or not, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are two very remarkable people.”
Chapter Notes
While there is no specific account contemporary with the time shown here where Brigham Young speaks about the importance of following counsel, the sentiments he expresses to Matthew are drawn from things he said later in life (see Journal of Discourses, 26 vols. [London: Latter-day Saints’ Book Depot, 1854–86], 12:126).
George A. Smith—cousin to the Prophet Joseph, a member of the Twelve, and First Counselor to President Brigham Young from 1868 to 1875—is the one who reports that Oliver Cowdery once stated his belief that if he left the Church it would fail (see Journal of Discourses 17:199).
Drusilla and James Hendricks were part of the first group to start west from Nauvoo. Their story as told here is an accurate portrayal of their situation. The description of how Drusilla supported her family while in Nauvoo comes from her own words as recorded in her life story. (See Leonard J. Arrington and Susan Arrington Madsen, Sunbonnet Sisters: True Stories of Mormon Women and Frontier Life [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1984], pp. 29–30.)
Chapter 11
I can’t imagine where he has gone to,” Caroline said. “He just said he was going to cut some firewood.”
“When was that?” Nathan asked.
“Almost two hours ago.”
He sensed that Caroline was trying to be nonchalant about it, but there was just a touch of anxiety in her voice.
Solomon seemed to note it too. He grinned at Caroline. “Knowing Joshua, he probably saw someone he knew, or thought of something else he needed to do first.”
“Probably,” Caroline agreed.
Brigham’s company had left Shoal Creek Camp the day before, April third, traveling in the rain fourteen miles to reach what they called the Hickory Grove Camp. There was a small stream and an extensive stand of timber there to give at least some shelter. Some of the Steeds were now walking upstream, or north, along the west bank of the creek. They had come nearly half a mile from their camp, passing the last of the encampment’s tents five minutes before. Above them, through the trees, the sky was overcast, but it was high and thin—thin enough to show that the sun was almost directly overhead. Back in camp they were beginning to start the fires in preparation for the midday meal. And the Steeds had virtually no firewood. On their arrival, they had gathered only enough for supper and breakfast. So Joshua had left shortly after breakfast with two oxen and one wagon to gather more.
“Maybe he crossed over to the other bank,” Josh volunteered.
Nathan shook his head. “No point, unless he saw someone.” The creek was only a couple of feet deep, though twenty or so feet across, and fording it would be no challenge. But there was no need for Joshua to go over. Then Nathan had second thoughts. “However, there’s been a lot of people getting firewood on this side. Maybe he thought there might be more over there.”
Solomon nodded and motioned to Josh. “Come on. We’ll go across and search on that side.”
They cut to the right and quickly disappeared in the trees. Nathan looked at Caroline. “Why don’t you stay right along the creek bed here? I’ll go see if he might be over this way. Go another five minutes, then wait. I’ll come to you.”
She nodded, and even as Nathan moved away she lifted her head and called out. “Joshua!”
Nathan angled to the left, working his way through the trees. In less than a minute he could barely hear Caroline’s voice anymore. So much for calling out. Unless they got right on top of him, Joshua wouldn’t hear them, especially if he was chopping or stacking wood. So Nathan peered ahead, watching for tracks or movement, listening for any sounds.
He was puzzled more than worried. Once they got farther west, where the Indian tribes still ran free, there would be more cause for concern at a time like this, but not now. An accident was possible, but Joshua was not some inexperienced traveler. Solomon was most likely right. Joshua had probably seen someone or gone back another way. He might even be back at the camp by now.
Nathan came to where he could see the trees thinning out and giving way to open prairie again. He turned straight north, making better time now through the more scattered timber, moving as silently as possible as he listened intently for the sound of an ax or the lowing of an ox. When he finally saw the movement, back to his right, deeper in the trees, he froze, staring at the spot where he thought he had seen something. There was nothing for several seconds; then there it was again. A tail had swished, momentarily flashing against the surrounding trees. In the speckled and subdued light of the forest, the brindle-colored oxen blended in almost perfectly. Had the one not moved, Nathan would have gone right on by. Now he could see the wagon behind it. They had stripped the canvas cover off the lightest wagon and unloaded it enough to take a good load of firewood. The wagon was nearly full.
He lifted his hand, about to shout, then dropped it again. There was no other movement—no swinging of an ax, no thudding as wood was tossed up on the stack. A slow grin stole across Nathan’s face. Joshua had fallen asleep. That was the only explanation. For that, he would deserve a ribbing. Moving even more carefully than before, Nathan crept forward.
He had gone only a few steps when he saw Joshua. He was not stretched out somewhere but rather was sitting on a fallen log, his back to Nathan. His head was down, his chin in one hand. For a moment, Nathan thought he might have dozed off, but then his head came up and stared out into the trees ahead of him. Then it dropped again. His hand moved, reaching for something on his lap. There was a momentary flash of white. He was reading something.
Nathan felt a sudden sense of being an intruder and he changed his mind about trying to startle his brother. “Joshua?” He called just loudly enough for his voice to reach him.
Joshua shot to his feet, jerking his head around. “Nathan!” He fumbled quickly, not turning his body, as if he were shoving something inside his coat. Finally, he turned around, looking a little sheepish.
Nathan went forward, walking more swiftly now. “Hi. Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” Joshua called back, forcing a laugh. “You startled me.” He buttoned the bottom of his jacket, even though the air was not that chilly, then reached down and picked up the ax that was lying at his feet. He walked to the wagon, meeting Nathan there.
Nathan gave him a strange look, but Joshua only smiled blandly. “I was just getting ready to leave. Sat down for a minute to rest.”
“Looks like you’re done,” Nathan said, noting the full wagon and the ground littered with chips and small branches that Joshua had cut from a fallen log.
“Yep. That should last us for a while, don’t you think?”
“I would think so.”
Joshua put the ax beneath the wagon seat, then walked to the head of the oxen. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
“Looking for you.” Nathan again looked at him closely. “Do you know what time it is?”
There was a momentary start and Joshua looked up at the sky, where the sun was nearing its zenith. “Oh!” He shook his head. “It’s getting later than I thought.” He shrugged, recovering swiftly now. “Sorry. I lost track, I guess.”
Nathan nearly said something. He was also almost certain Joshua had been reading something, but there was nothing in his hands now. If he had been reading, he didn’t want Nathan to know about it. Nathan decided to let it pass. “Caroline is over by the creek. Solomon and Josh are on the other side.”
“My, my,” Joshua said, chiding just a little now. “I wasn’t that late.”
“I know. We thought maybe you could use some help. Caroline said she wanted to get out and walk.”
“And she was worried just a little, I’ll bet,” he answered.
“Yes, that too.” Nathan jerked his head toward the east. “I told her to stay close to the creek. I’ll take the load in if you want to go find her.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“You’ll hear her as you get closer. She’s been calling.”
“Okay. See you back at camp.”
Joshua swung around again and moved off, not turning back. Nathan watched him curiously. In a moment he disappeared into the subdued light, and finally Nathan shrugged. He walked to the oxen. “All right, boys, let’s get going. You’ve got people waiting to get a meal started.”
Joshua stood motionless behind a large hickory tree until he could no longer hear the sound of the wagon. With a quick movement of his right hand, he reached inside his coat and retrieved the book that he had jammed up under his arm. For a moment he stared at the dark stain on the cover, then looked up again, staring at the spot where he had last seen Nathan. Had his brother seen that he was reading? He thought about that, then shook his head. Nathan had been behind him. There was no way he could have. But he would have to be more careful from now on. The last thing he needed was to be interrogated by an overeager family. He was curious, that was all. Over the past few days he had read here and there in the book, browsing more than reading. But the encounter with Drusilla and James Hendricks had left him wondering what it was that drove them.
He stepped out from behind the tree, looking once more to make sure Nathan was gone. The forest was silent. Reaching carefully around to the back of his trousers, he tucked the book into the waistline, then pulled his coat down lower in the back. Satisfied, he spun around and started walking again. He raised his head. “Caroline! Caroline! It’s me! I’m over here.”
It was expected that spring would bring rain to the Great Plains. That was as sure as mosquitoes along the Mississippi or falling leaves in autumn. But the spring of 1846 brought rains like no one had ever seen, at least in the memory of any white man. It was as though Iowa Territory saw the burgeoning stream of refugees pouring across the river and onto her prairies as a personal threat and fought back with the only means at hand—the weather. It would rain for days on end, stopping the companies dead. But the Saints would not turn back. The moment the roads began to dry, they were out again. They had not learned their lesson. So once again it would start to rain.
They were stopped for twelve days at Richardson’s Point, ten days at the Chariton River. Finally, on the first day of April, the order came to move west again. The first and fourth companies of fifty moved out about nine a.m. But not all were ready, and it was not until the night of the second that all of the companies reached the next camp on Shoal Creek, just six or seven miles west of the Chariton River. That night the wind started to blow, signalling the next storm. This time Brigham wouldn’t give in. They had to keep moving. So on the morning of the third, they pulled their coats around them, lowered their heads, cinched down the wagon covers, and moved out, slogging straight into the teeth of the storm.
It proved to be one of the worst of days in what was becoming a never-ending march of miserable days. It rained and blew hard all day. Oxen and mules sunk up to their bellies in the bogs. Even the slightest rise of land required double and triple teaming. Some teams became mired as they were going down the far side of hillocks and ridges. Incredibly, they made fourteen miles, one of the longest marches since they had left Nauvoo. But by nightfall, when they reached Hickory Grove, about a mile from the east fork of Locust Creek, dozens of wagons had been left behind, mired deeply.
Finally Brigham saw there was no point in battling the inevitable. Once again, as the rains came down in blinding sheets, Brigham ordered a halt. The next day, Saturday, April fourth, saw continued rain in the form of scattered showers. Most rested in camp, but several teams were sent back to help retrieve those who had been stranded the day before. The next day, the fifth of April, was Sunday. It dawned cold and clear, but most of the camp would stay put this day. That afternoon Brigham took advantage of the respite to ride out a few miles west and survey the area around the east and middle forks of Locust Creek. He returned to the main camp about sunset and announced that they would be moving out tomorrow at sunrise. But once again it started raining during the night. Nevertheless, on Monday morning part of the camp moved about three miles west, crossing the east fork and the middle fork of Locust Creek and stopping on the west bank of the middle fork. Here they began pitching their tents. Their spirits were lifted when near sundown the sky cleared and there was a beautiful sunset. They should have been wiser.
As darkness fell, the clouds came scudding in and the wind began to rise. About eight o’clock the heavens let loose in such fury that it would prove to be the worst storm seen thus far. Lightning and thunder crashed all around, shaking the trees and making even the ground tremble. Tents were torn loose and blown down. Wagon covers were ripped away. Stock panicked and stampeded. Bedding and clothing were instantly drenched. The rain came in horizontally, peppering bare skin like pebbles flung from a boy’s flipper.